Symphony No. 2 in F♯ Minor

I began this symphony in December 2021, around the time I was rejected by my third love interest. Defying the "third time's a charm" saying, the realization struck that I may die alone, and that I may never find the one, or merely anyone who would want to be with me. No matter how much I might be able to accomplish as a clarinetist and composer, my diminutive stature, physical appearance and self-sabotaging plights like my social awkwardness and obsessive tendency to overthink renders it null in the eyes of seemingly all of my love interests. With this empty feeling of utter hopelessness, I felt highly compelled to base mynext symphony on this all-consuming and never-ending struggle. I originally envisioned my second symphony sooner or later to be in A major, as a celebration of an eventual love pursuit ending in success—until the Hammer of Fate (in hommage to Mahler), with each brutal strike marking a new rejection, struck this symphony's tonality into the depressing relative minor, F♯. I then planned to base each movement on a separate love interest and my pursuit of her:

PART I: ILLUSION
I. Vivace con immenso dolore "The Cellist"
II. Andante cantabile "The Violinist"
III. Allegro furioso "The Pianist"

PART II: DEATH SPIRAL
IV. Intermezzo: Aria del destino
V. Finale. Tema con variazioni "The Violist"

Since my first love pursuit was already depicted by the last movement of my Clarinet Sonata No. 1 in C Minor "Youth," (Op. 10.3) I decided to start with my second pursuit (which ended catastrophically), which would then be followed by (who knows how many?) more ill-fated pursuits. The symphony would encapsulate five-plus years of heartbreak, but following this cycle, I hoped that I could ultimately bring this symphony a triumphant finale—but I was not optimistic.

Spe meliora, parare ad deteriora 

is my motto, Latin for "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

IV. Intermezzo: Aria del destino (Camilo Aybar)

From the distance, memories emerge

Of a time more simple—now diverged

There was naught but sweetness all around,  

and no misgiving weighing down

If one could relive this state of bliss

Then one would not have missed

The chance to relish every small moment enough

Filled with smiles, filled with laughs, joy and love!

 O, why did thee have to go?

Or why did I let it no longer show

That I yearn to be in thy reaches,

Now an ill-fated dream

That once seemed attainable.

Memories, memories, all that they are

Now departed they leave a scar

Of regret! Being met

With no seeming end as yet

Yet, might there be?

Might there be a chance of hope?

Am I stuck in the past?

Or if I act quite so fast

Can I rekindle this old flame that might have not quite died?

Can I ever be forgiven?

Not just by thee, but myself

For I have failed by not even having tried

Though always at it seems my destiny!

Yet might Fate bring a different theme?

I must challenge Fate before her hammer heeds

I shall take the lead in declaring my undying love for thee

For my Fate is written by me!

And will the best, or the worst come to be?

O! My! My! My!

My reply from thee will try and see.

V. Finale. Tema con variazioni

Var. XV: Love is as a fever (William Shakespeare)

My love!

My love is as a fever, longing still

For that which longer nurseth the disease,

Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,

The uncertain sickly appetite to please!

Var. XVI: Desire is death (William Shakespeare)

My… 

My… 

My reason, the physician to my love,

Angry that their prescriptions are not kept,

Hath left me, and I desperate now approve

Desire is death, which physic did except.

And frantic-mad with evermore unrest

My thoughts are at random from the Truth vainly express’d

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,

Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Var. XVII: C'est l'extase langoureuse (Paul Verlaine)

C’est l’extase langoureuse,

C’est la fatigue amoureuse,

C’est tous les frissons des bois

Parmi l’étreinte des brises,

C’est, vers les ramures grises,

Le chœur des petites voix.

Var. XVIII: Ô le frêle et frais murmure ! (Paul Verlaine)

Ô le frêle et frais murmure !

Cela gazouille et susure,

Cela ressemble au cri doux

Que l’herbe agitée expire…

Tu dirais, sous l’eau qui vire,

Le roulis sourd des cailloux.

Cette âme qui se lamente

En cette plainte dormante

C’est la nôtre, n’est-ce pas ?

La mienne, dis, et la tienne,

Dont s’exhale l’humble antienne

Par ce tiède soir, tout bas ?

Var. XX: Fugue (William Shakespeare, Paul Verlaine)

(Fugal subject in E-flat minor)

Love is as a fever, desire is death, frantic mad with evermore unrest 

(Answer in B-flat minor)

C'est l'extase langoureuse, c'est la fatigue amoureuse, cette âme qui se lamente

Var. XXI: Love is a worse fate than death (Camilo Aybar)

In the distance hope disappears

For what once brought light drains life away

This wailing soul that nobody hears

Is eternally drowned in voids of hate

And no matter how hard it tries to be free

It is doomed for eternity

Passions all repressed,

Now it must confess,

With its final breath,

Love is a worse fate than death!

Var. XXII-XIII: Yet to be patient... (Text by William Shakespeare, Camilo Aybar)

My love is as a fever, longing still

For that which nurseth the disease

Yet to be patient, shall aid the release

Of Fate's cruelly cold grip, escaping this hell

And my love can now be appeas’d,

Embracing death! 

Farewell…